“You love me?” he asked. It was painfully sweet, a Jolly-Rancher-trapped-in-a-cavity kind of sweet.
“Yes.” She let out a sad little laugh. “And it’s terrifying, because this isn’t like one of my projects—I don’t know if any of this is going to work out. And I’m not good at believing people won’t let me down. I treat everyone like they might hurt me, so when they do, I’m not surprised.”
“I…can relate to that.” His laugh was hesitant, but hopeful.
“In spite of everything, I trust you. So if you think you can trust me, too, I want to be with you. We can divorce or stay married or date…whatever you want to do, I want to try.”
He peered down at her for a good long while, a smile growing from his mouth to his eyes to every inch of him. When Lainey started to wonder if he was ever going to speak again, he dropped a knee down to the pavement, resting his forehead on her thigh for a moment before looking up at her again.
Lainey gripped the cushion of the passenger seat, her heart in her throat. “What are you doing?”
“Lainey Davis,” he said, taking both of her hands in his andplacing his fingers on her ring. “Will you stay married to me? For real this time?”
“Yes,” she answered, her joy spilling over into tears.
“Oh, thank god.” He rose to his feet and picked her up by her hips. Her arms and legs wrapped around him and her lips found his on instinct. Their kiss was home. It was morning light shining through the windows. A perfectly worn-in sweatshirt. The shape of a honeycomb. It was exactly right, because it was theirs.
“So,” Lainey said when she finally came up for air. “If our original deal is off, what do we do now?”
He shrugged as another bus rumbled past. “I think we get to do whatever we want.”
Chapter 25
Marzipan
256 Days until Busy Season
“See?” Lainey facedthe cabinet above the coffee maker, closing the door with the gentlest touch. “Look how I didn’t shake all the glassware or test the integrity of the hinges. We don’t need to express our emotions by slamming cabinet doors like we’re eleven.”
It was the Saturday after Labor Day, and she and Elliot were back in Forest’s Bridge. Busy season was officially over, and there was nothing left to do but survey the damage and wait until next year.
Elliot circled his arms around her waist from behind. Her body melted into his touch with the press of his arms and the weight of his chin on the top of her head. She was so small and safe with him. “I hear you, Davis,” he murmured into her hair. “Should we film a cabinet usage tutorial and add it to the listing?”
“I know you’re joking, but I’m starting to think shaming the customers is the only viable solution.” She twisted in his arms until she was facing him. “Next year, if any renters act like this, we take away their towels.” She tapped his chest for emphasis.
He shut his eyes patiently, the way he did whenever she got heated like this. “Don’t worry about the towels.”
“Someone has to. These people keep taking them,” she argued, inspecting the remaining cabinet doors for signs of damage. “We don’t have unlimited towel money. This isn’t a DoubleTree.”
He followed her to the opposite counter and sidled up behind her again, pressing her into the cabinets. “I’m kind of into this side of you. I never took you for a ruthless capitalist.”
“I work within whatever system I’m in.” She turned to face him and then hopped up on the counter, tugging him close by the shirt collar. “Now, are you going to have this kind of excessively randy energy at Bree’s sip and see?”
He gagged a little. “I hate the wordrandy. And why do you keep calling it a ‘sip and see’? It’s sounding more and more like anEyes Wide Shutparty by the second.”
“Becauseshekeeps calling it that!” As much as Lainey loved Friend Bree, she was deeply discomfited by Hostess Bree, who insisted on calligraphy place cards for a group of ten people who all knew each other, and who had assigned a dress code she referred to as “floral festive.”
“We need a code word for when it’s time to escape, likemarzipanorgrapefruit.”
He nudged her off the counter by her hand and tugged her in the direction of the door. “She’s your best friend. It won’t be that bad. Where’s your bag?” he asked, spinning his head around the room, his hand on the doorknob.
“You don’t understand. You’re not prepared.”
“There it is.” He snatched her canvas bag off the ground by the handles, ignoring her. “You look beautiful, by the way.” Hehanded her the bag and planted a kiss on her forehead before shoving her out the door, Waffle trailing behind.
Bree’s house was a newer build in the style of mid-century modern perfection. Where Lainey and Elliot’s house had sandstone and pine, Bree’s had rich cedar and warm red brick. From her Smeg fridge to the smart bulbs in herSputnikchandelier, every old thing was secretly brand new.
“You’re here!” Bree whisper-shouted. “Everyone’s out back. We can’t talk inside. Elodie just fell asleep.”
